


Smile

by AstroLolli



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Beta Read, Boys In Love, Falling In Love, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Funny, Love, Love Confessions, M/M, Manhunt - Freeform, Minecraft, Mutual Pining, No Angst, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Plane, Romance, Slow Romance, Strangers to Lovers, holiday romance, not a lot anyway, sapnap may be in this, we dont die like george in manhunt :'(
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-14 12:00:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28920213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AstroLolli/pseuds/AstroLolli
Summary: George had booked himself a plane ticket, and was heading to the airport. He’s afraid of the upcoming journey ahead of himself. To tell the truth, George had never been on a plane before, so it was a whole new experience for him....A simple trip to Florida couldn’t be too strange, right?
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 8





	1. Perhaps

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for ruining your viewing experience, but I just came to say a little hello to the reader, as well as some context! :)
> 
> Originally, I started this story on the 6th of January 2021 and I’m hoping to keep the ending within January as well. So apologies if you notice a small difference with my writing in later chapters. (Or whenever I post said chapters at least lol)
> 
> Just saying though! I’ve changed it up a lil so it doesnt seem like im holding you, the lovely readers, hand. 
> 
> overall, I hope you enjoy! :)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George books himself a ticket to go on holiday.

George was unsure about his decision, to be honest. He struggled to move his cursor down to the large rectangular button, 'PROCEED WITH PAYMENT' in bold, black letters. He was planning on going on holiday for once, since nothing extremely exciting happened in his life: but maybe George didn't want to anymore.

The thought of being in another country was a little daunting to him, due to the fact that he had never been to his desired choice of holiday. And plus, there's so much _preparing_ that needs to go into it, as well—

George shook the bad thoughts away, finally clicking on the rectangular button. A soft _click_ echoed around George's room, bringing him fully back to reality. Leaning forward in his chair, George began to skillfully type away at his keyboard, entering his credit card details.

George forgot that there's many numbers on credit cards which are almost impossible to remember, so with a heavy sigh, he went over to his jacket. It hung loosely from a little peg stuck on his bedroom door, silver in colour. George rummaged through his pockets for the thin card, and eventually finding it in the last pocket he searched.

The fast typing of George's keyboard was all that could be heard in his small, pale-coloured room. George's room was small, but cosy. It was plastered with posters of his favourite game, Minecraft. He'd played it ever since he could remember, or whenever it was first released.

George gingerly moved his cursor over to another button, with seemingly bolder black letters than before. 'CONFIRM PAYMENT', it read, the font was very confident and intriguing. Another _click_ sounded through-out George's bedroom walls.

The website showed a loading screen, a never ending, unfinished, small circle looped across the middle of the screen. George's eyes watched it like it was a clock, except instead of the usual _tick-tick_ noise, there was silence.

After several minutes—during that time, George was scrolling through Twitter—he looked up to check his computer, noticing immediately that there was a page, telling him that his ticket was to be sent out shortly to his address.

Now the waiting had begun.

George was wondering why they couldn't just send him a virtual ticket, since technology was that advanced now, but he complied anyway, happy for the ticket to have been confirmed. A lot of the times when George wanted to go on holiday, he couldn't, since the travel website he had chosen didn't work at all. George wasn't made of money, so he couldn't just go to the more expensive travel agents and buy the over-priced tickets with a shrug; just like a celebrity would do, or be doing right at that moment.

Money was so expensive, anyway: it was overrated. Everybody needed to have money, or a credit card by the age of 18, unless they wouldn't be able to buy anything. To be able to live you needed money—it was just the harsh reality of life.

By the age of 19, George bid his parents farewell, moving into his new house with a sad smile. George's house—or flat—was moderately big for what a lot of people have small. It had all the essentials that he needed to live; a bathroom, kitchen, bedroom—everything you'd have in an actual home. George still enjoyed living there nonetheless: even if it wasn't a proper house.

Whilst scrolling through Twitter absentmindedly, George had received an email for his ticket, revealing the arrival date. The ticket was due to arrive tomorrow morning,—to George's relief, since tickets usually took forever via mail—but noticed that he'd better start packing soon.

George's trip was scheduled for the day after arrival, so he had some amount of time to pack—but not enough to the point where he could leave it until tomorrow night. He had to be precise on what he was bringing, since his trip was to last for 2 weeks.

Even though Florida seemed like fun, he'd never actually been there before. This would be George's first time properly leaving the comforts of his own country—and going into a completely new one. One far, far away from his own. England to Florida was a long, long trip—George knew he'd be on a plane for a long time too.

The problem is that,

For 1, George had never been on a plane before—he doesn't know how it feels, or anything.

and,

2, It's not like he had anyone to take with him—even if he wanted someone to come along.

So, in conclusion; George was _doomed_. Going somewhere so far away by yourself was like a death trap, and George _knew_ so, too.

But George still wanted to go on holiday—even with his eerie thoughts haunting him. He pushed them to the back of his mind—he could think about them later, when he'd actually slept.

He took a glance at the top of the bright screen that was still on Twitter, reading 2:34. iPhone's are always on 24-hour clock mode, so George sighed for what seemed like the fifth time today. He closed Twitter and shut his phone off, placing it on his drawer.

George slid into bed, the exhaustion of his thoughts and tiresome day in the house hit him right in the face. The warmth that was his bed was wrapped around him, lulling him into sleep, until his breathing turned slow.


	2. what

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s a secret ;)

George woke up to the sound of his beeping alarm, waking him up instantly. Soon, it was to be the big day of his trip to the airport, and his first time being on a plane.

He was excited, but scared at the same time. The long awaited ticket had arrived, pushed through a metal slot in the middle of his door. It was assigned to George and his address—and only George, since he was the only human living within said house.

With careful hands, he opened the envelope, making sure that he didn't accidentally rip the ticket, since he probably wouldn't be able to get a refund of his money.

The ticket was a rectangular shape, with two wavy gold lines coloured at the bottom. It had a barcode, as well as George's full name typed out on to it. Since it was laminated, it looked shiny—he could forget about accidentally ripping it, then.

Like it was a prized possession of his, George placed the shiny ticket on top of his brown drawer, making sure to not let it get lost within the scatter of items upon it. Even if it did get lost amongst all the various items on it, it would be fine, since he knew that Cat probably wouldn't be able to reach it. If Cat can't reach it, then nobody would be able to magically move it. George had better things to worry about, anyways.

George was in the midst of packing his soon-to-be-full suitcase, filling it with clothes, a toothbrush and toothpaste, and various other items that George wanted to take along with him. It was around mid-afternoon when he was finally finished with packing everything—his suitcase was now filled to the brim. He took one last look around the house, before zipping the suitcase shut.

Now all George needs to do is wait. Wait until the time comes when he's due to be at the airport. George knew he would need to be up extra early—earlier than he's used to, at least. His flight was due to take off at 8:30, so he needed to make sure to go to bed soon.

During George's thoughts, he also thought about what it would be like to be in a new country—would he feel any different? Will he see strange items that he's never see before, or meet new people along the way? George didn't know, he just had to wait, patiently.

In the midst of his thoughts, he thought about how he hadn't played Minecraft at all recently—he was too hooked up on thinking and planning about his holiday. He got too caught up in it all that he completely neglected his favourite game—as well as his ' _job_ '.

Due to this, he also realised that he hadn't recorded and edited any videos whatsoever to fill up for his absence from his computer, since he couldn't take it along with himself.

George groaned with frustration, since the two videos that he had recorded were about a couple months old, and hardly edited. Guess this was how he was going to pass the time, then.

He sat down on his leather chair, starting up his computer, which laid on his dark-wooded desk. He clicked on his editing software, scrolling through old videos—some of which were finished, whilst others not—and stopped and clicked on one of the many videos. The older, finished videos weren't up to the usual standard of his videos, so he knew it was useless even to take a glimpse at any of them.

George coded a plug-in in Minecraft where hostile mobs would spawn within the range of blocks he was in every minute. The video mostly consisted of George's tone being frustrated from how many times that he died, and anger, since he was incredibly close to beating the Ender Dragon.

And so forth, George began to edit the video. Cutting some parts out, and especially the one of him accidentally letting a swear word slip out in frustration. And also adding a sprinkle of intense music that would make the viewers immersed into watching it until the end.

George shortened the originally 1:37 duration of the video to 25 minutes, only showcasing the clips which were intense, and also of his failures.

By the time he was finished, the time was 22:57. Hopefully, George would get round to editing the video another time—where he isn't busy planning a holiday, anyway. For now, the only thing George was interested in was sleeping, since he had a big day tomorrow morning.

Satisfied that he had at least one video prepared, he set an alarm for 7 o'clock. George got into bed, pulling the covers over himself. George's bed was always cosy, so he was sound asleep within minutes. Before being lulled into sleep by the warmth, George knew this was going to be an exciting adventure, waiting to be unraveled.


	3. he

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George has boarded his flight, and is on his way to Florida. :)

George woke up to the loud _beep-beep_ of his alarm clock. Groggily, he lifted his tired body up, realising what day it is today. It's the day that George goes on holiday to Florida. He took a quick glance at the clock, it reading: 7:34 AM. He must have been sleeping for a while, since he remembers setting his alarm for exactly 7:00 the night previous. Of course, George just _had_ to sleep in.

With a small, sad sigh, he left the comfort of his cosy bed, heading to the bathroom to take a shower. He took out pants and a blue shirt to take to the bathroom with him, as well as a soft towel. George's favourite colour is blue—specifically the only colour that he can properly see—so obviously, the towel was dyed to his standards.

He closed the pale, wooden door behind himself, placing the towel and clothing on top of the toilet seat. With agility, George took off his hoodie and sweats, stepping straight into the bath—but at the same time—shower. With the press of a button, he felt cold droplets drip on to the top of his head. Since he had washed his hair yesterday morning, he thought it should be fine not to wash it. He decided to have a cold shower, instead of a warm one—mostly just to wake himself up properly, since his eyes were still droopy.

He used his lemongrass shower gel, applying it along his body with speed, before the cool liquid washed it down the drain soon afterwards. George's mum bought it for him as a birthday present for his 24th—so, he made sure to wear it often, especially if he was coming to visit her.

He pushed the white button again, the water coming to a sudden halt, and only little droplets drip-dropping on his head again. Just as quickly as he had stepped into the shower, he had stepped out, wrapping a fuzzy item around his lower half. It draped over his legs—all the way down to his knees, but like George cared, anyway. Anybody would know that going on a plane for the first time is not an easy task.

So, leaving the room just as quickly as he had entered—shutting and opening doors in the process—George relinquished the warmth of entering his favourite place; the place where he was lulled to unconciousness, and to the place where he played Minecraft: he was going to miss it. Yesterday was his last night sleeping in warmth, and today he would be sleeping in coldness: technically, within a rollercoaster.

Letting the softness leave his skin completely, he threw the water-filled cloth to a dimly lit corner, where a sad, overfilled laundry basket laid—it was filled with dirty clothes and towels. George slipped his shirt and pants on with ease, since his body was partially dry, due to the help of an old friend.

After slipping on a pair of mismatched socks—both being white, but one having a plethora of polka dots—he took in the sight of his soon-to-be-left-for-a-week-or-more bedroom. He was going to miss his posters, his warm and welcoming friend, his computer, perched on top of his polished oak desktop. But most of all, George would miss Cat. George knew he couldn't _not_ miss her, since he knew that she'd throw a fit otherwise.

With one last pat to the head for Cat, George left his apartment completely. He hadn't noticed how long he'd been looking at all the pictures on his plainly-coloured walls, until he met a very large, tall man, whose face is very unlike a human's one—the grand man looked at him in surprise—the latter doing the same. His round face went by ever so slowly, but no matter how slow he was, he deemed himself useful.

He was going to be late. He had to get there within a time limit of exactly 15 minutes. Though, to most people, 15 minutes would be a relatively long time—but not for a man named George. And since he was going on _holiday_ —life just got worse. The only good thing that's happened today is George's finding of his old clout glasses—he could finally match with a man from another foreign world—a world that's familiar, but unfamiliar at the same time.

With a surprising amount of strength, he took his companion by the hand—said companion being very useful, even if George couldn't talk to him. With a sad cry of pain from his muscles being strained, George finally got his suitcase into the back seat of his car, for later use.

His body slid into the car like slime—just like a familiar fellow who often appears in a lanky and damp swamp—George turned his vehicles engine on, somehow coming back to life after being dead for a while. He drove as fast as he could without breaking the law, and getting put in prison for just wanting to be on time for a holiday.

So, keeping at the minimum amount of speed that you can go at, George headed straight for Brighton's AirLines. He was now glad that he had picked the nearest airport to his small house, since otherwise, he definitely would've been late.

As he drove, time ticked by quickly. Every time George took a short glance at the time—which was displayed on a radio-like screen—it showcased a higher number every time. The time for his planes departure was coming in fast—almost too fast for George to actually _arrive_ at the airport in time. He knew the consequences if he didn't get there _soon_ : the plane would just take off, and everybody on said plane would be on their merry-way to Florida.

If he did miss his flight, then George knew that he wouldn't be booking another ticket—it cost too much anyway, and the disappointment would be overwhelming if the same thing happened from previous events—not like he would miss it, but just a possibility in George's clogged and over-filled mind.

The traffic was unbearable. It seemed as if there were hundreds of cars everywhere you looked—even if you looked at the sky, you could still see the roofs of some vehicles—or possibly even heads. Due to the traffic, he felt as if he'd just lost a large sum of cash.

For all he knew, his thoughts earlier could've predicted the future—maybe he is going to miss his flight. Or worse, he could get to the airport, but see his plane take off as he entered the facility.

He shook himself of his thoughts, since he knew he needed to focus on the journey ahead of him. Anyways, his short trip to the airport couldn't take too long, as far as he knew. George just had to make do.

Happily for George, less than a few seconds later, he saw the welcoming face of an old friend. He could finally see the outline of his destination. He dared to jinx himself into thinking that his plane _hadn't_ took off already by letting out a relived sigh—he was content and familiar with the face, said friend being one he saw too many times as a child.

Turning off the engine of his once alive friend, George felt the life drain out of his car, going back to being still and motionless—as it usually was. Just like a few minutes prior, George slid out of the car with ease, opening one out of five doors of his inanimate friend. He took out his suitcase, closing the one of many doors yet again. He made his trek along the hard and stony ground—some places black due to the objects which have maneuvered across it with ease too many times for one to count.

Slow, even steps quickly turned into fast, uneven ones. George probably had less than 5 minutes to get his ticket scanned, as well as boarding the plane. So, with a slight jump as he ran, George scuttled his way inside without bumping into anyone.

George knew the journey ahead would be a long and tiring one, but nonetheless, his excitement still overpowered his fear. If this was the trip life wanted to take him, then letting time do its magic, would be a good idea.

—or so he thought. Here lays the remains of a man once awake, but now unconscious. His body lay upright, his once seeing orbs temporarily shut. George can't quite think whilst in the midst of darkness, but his thoughts can recall the story quite vividly:

As soon as George sat down on his almost mattress-like chair, his head sunk into the comforting feeling of lovely cushion, whilst his body sank into the warmth—it felt as if somebody had already been in his place too, due to the lovely feeling of warmth lacing his skin. George had occupied one of the many window seats—so he could see the lovely sight outside.

The view outside was scenic: you could see the bright circle of light, which lit up the world in daylight, slowly rise into view amongst the purple clouds. Overall, it was beautiful, even if the sky was still painted in a deep shade of darkness. George's droopy eyes twinkled a song, before falling into a black hole, filled with blackness. That was probably the only amount of story his thoughts could even produce, since darkness was still all he saw.

Somehow, even though George had went through such a hardship today, his clout glasses still stood proudly as ever—unwavering and unmoving. They hadn't even bared an inch from their podium on top of his head. The black lenses shone brightly, light reflecting onto both lenses.

Still, George lay still and almost lifeless, the only sign of life within him from his chest heaving sightly. Maybe he wouldn't mind staying like that for a while, no matter how dead he looked. His tired state was formed from an almost sleepless night, so being a temporary corpse couldn't be too bad.

A soft, almost inaudible sound escaped his lips, the plane was having some amount of turbulence—to be very honest, it didn't make his job any easier whilst he was washing his hands. To make matters worse, he already had to wait in a long queue of people in the exact same situation as himself—their bladders ready to burst at any given second. It's an uncomfortable feeling, to say the very least.

He maneuvered his slim body past the sulking passengers, who were still waiting with urine filled bladders—or who knows? Maybe milk instead. It wasn't a very fast process, due to the humanoids within the long line. He just wanted to get back to his comforting, lovely, soft bed—well, if you could even call it a bed.

— _Or so he thought_. Instead of a comforting, lovely, soft bed, he was met with a lifeless man laying on his chair, it looked like his being was temporarily shut off. Said lifeless man had round rimmed glasses, perched on top of his head firmly. —in a nice enough way—(or if he was just being honest)—the man in question looked stupid. Clout glasses aren't the most fashionable thing—especially if it was paired with a light blue shirt.

With a sigh, he gently sunk into the comforting bed next to the still man, whose only sign of life was his chest softly moving. Even if his originally warm bed was now a cold one, he still was exhausted from his over-filled holiday, so he didn't have time to complain. Plus, he couldn't just wake up the man to his right, no matter how odd his desired choice of clothing was.

George finally opened his sensitive orbs, just to close them immediately afterwards. There was a bright, shiny light, which was sturdily placed on top of the ceiling above his head. Or rather, two heads now that George had adjusted to the new brightness. Curiosity brought him out of his sleepy stance, as he craned his neck to look at the man laying unconscious next to him.

He was a pretty decent looking man, except from how his hoodie looked quite gross to George. Dirty blonde locks covered most of his forehead, whilst his cheeks were dotted with light freckles.

No matter though if he looked decent, George was questioning the reason on why he was within the seat next to him—George knew he must've came whilst he was immobile on his comfy bed—or maybe he just couldn't find other seats. But, in contradiction to what he thought, he saw some seats with no dozing heads laying on them.

George, in a now more awake state of mind, unlike a couple minutes prior, looked at the motionless man on his right once more. He still lay the same way as to when he first woke up—seemingly _dead_ , and adorning a piss coloured hoodie.

George knew he would be able to talk to the unconscious man soon, since a bright ball of light could be seen peeking out of some murky clouds, making the sky look dim and dreary, even if it was afternoon. Hopefully said man speaks English, since George is _doomed_ otherwise.


End file.
